


A Memory of Warmth

by ko_writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes





	A Memory of Warmth

   I am alone.

   I read, I write, I listen, I watch; all alone.

   Well, one is never truly alone; isn't that what they say? There are always people, always life, even if you don't know.

   But this is cold loneliness; the kind that settles around your heart and pierces as the muscle beats. One, two, one, two; icicles stab the tender flesh and breath is stolen.

   I miss you.

   I miss you so much.

   Our talks were long and passionate, punctuated by laughs and hand gestures. In a way, we talked about nothing; but that nothing was our shared passions, it's got to count for something.

   I finally figured it out; why you make me feel the way I do. Why my breath quickens, why I smile, why warmth settles around me like a well-loved blanket when you smile and laugh at something I said, a fleeting joke or excited and incoherent squeaks. It took me longer than it should have.

   I miss you. I think I'm in love with you.

   I called to you as I walked away, "I miss you already!"

   And you called back, "I miss you, too!"

   We were both smiling slightly, a twitch of our lips, but it felt so sincere and yet not because, I either you or I were a man and not a woman, it would be a scene in some ridiculous romantic film. In fact, what does gender even matter?

   You make me look at myself from a new perspective, realise who I am, what was always a part of me but hidden in plain sight. It's exhilarating, if frustrating and painful in places like bruises on a lover's wrists portraying a night of enthusiastic passion.

   I love you. I miss you.

   As we said goodbye, we drew each other into an embrace, a brief touch.

   It was a second, I wish it was more. I wish I could have stroked a hand through your hair, notice what it smelled like.

   I sound so creepy; the worst thing is it can't sound any better.

   I know, there's him. That boy. I used to think I love him, but recently... I don't know. We're too different from each other; I find myself rolling my eyes and sighing more than my heart quickening and revelling in his touch as I used to. I think I've awoken from the dream of him and into reality.

   I don't love him. I love you.

   I'm sorry. I'll probably never say this to your face. I'm just sitting, typing, imagining the warmth of your arms around me.

   My chest, my heart, is tight and cold but my body tingles with the distant memory of you.

   I'll never tell you; we're friends, I don't want to mess that up. So I'll just sit here, alone.


End file.
